At First Meeting
by kashkow
Summary: My version of the epic first meeting between Morton and Crane. Takes place at the Academy. Set in my Universe that has little to do with anyone else's, including Irwin Allan's.


At First Meeting

Ellen H.

Just a quick story for dues since I forgot that you had to have a completed work and not just a piece of something, dang it. I have been thinking about this for a while, and this might show up again in a slightly different form after I think about it some more. Just a note, I know little to nothing about the Naval Academy. Any mistakes are out of ignorance. Please forgive the glaring errors. Also, no beta on this; the Comma Queen was quite happy with it, in a Queen of Hearts kind of way.

New Midshipman Cadet Chip Morton waved one last time to his parents and sisters as he stepped in his turn into the doorway of the residential hall of the Naval Academy, Bancroft Hall, Mother B as it was known, and stepped up to the small table where room assignments were being given out. As it came his turn at the table, he came to attention as best he could, though he was aware that he wasn't anywhere near as good at it as he was going to be soon; the upperclassmen would see to that he was sure. The 2nd year midshipman behind the deck gave him a glare and a frown and then snapped.

"Name?"

"Morton, Charles P." Chip replied briskly.

"Well Morton, Charles P. that has to be the sorriest excuse for attention that I have yet to see today, and I have seen some bad ones. So that you do not share your deficiencies with those of your class that might actually have a slim chance to become officers, I will be placing you in the room with the rest of the screw-ups in the hopes that you do away with each other and save us the trouble of washing you out." He scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Chip.

"Fifth floor, room 503. You have…" he glanced at the clock, "twenty-three minutes until inspection begins. You might tell your roommates that due to your sterling performance that your quarters will be the first to be inspected." When Chip looked about to protest the upperclassman cut him off, "Time's wasting. Stairs are there. Haul it." He shifted his gaze. "Next."

Chip pushed down the argument that had risen in his throat, reminding himself that he had wanted this. He knew that the upperclassmen were going to be tough on the first year students. It was part of their job to winnow out the wheat from the chaff, and Chip had every intention of sticking it out. He certainly wasn't going to get upset on the first day of Hell week, the introductory period for the new class of midshipmen before the start of the regular term.

Chip started up the stairs toward the fifth floor. He was moving briskly, but not briskly enough for the 3rd year midshipman who was waiting on the first landing. He made a rather improbable statement about Chip's physiology, and forcibly suggested that a faster rate of ascent would be the only acceptable method from then on. Chip picked up his pace, followed closely by the upperclassmen who, unburdened by a sea bag, had plenty of breath to yell at Chip all the way up to the fifth floor. Once they reached the landing his taskmaster went back down to find a new victim, and left Chip to the tender mercies of the 2nd classman, who introduced himself to Chip as the fifth floor monitor, Midshipman Lt Tegan. He demanded the paper that Chip had been given at the desk, and looked at it with every appearance of complete disillusionment.

"Great, another one. Why'd you have to be here on _my_ watch, Morton? Couldn't get into that diesel engine repair class back in whatever backwater you came from?" Without waiting for, or even seeming to expect, a reply he pointed toward the end of the hall. "Down there. Twenty-one and a half minutes to inspection. I suggest you get to it."

Chip went down the hall, and found the quarters he had been assigned. Like all the other rooms the door stood open. He entered, and looked around. There wasn't a lot to see. The small room was packed with two bunk beds, four small desks and four lockers. It was also crowded with three other young men. As Chip came in they all looked his way.

The first, to Chip's left, was a very tall, black man with a handsome face who had to be at least 6'4''. He was thin for his size and his arms and legs seemed very long. In fact he looked rather awkward, as if he had not yet completed growing. He was stowing his gear in one of the lockers. He looked dismissively at Chip and went on with what he was doing.

The second man was sitting on the lower bunk on the opposite side of the room. He appeared to be shorter than the first, and was white, with flaming red hair and a sea of freckles across a boyish face. He seemed to have about twenty more pounds than his frame really needed, giving him a chunky appearance. As Chip came in he broke into a large grin and stood.

"Hey, the other victim. Come in and join the doomed. What did you do to get put in with us, sneeze on Firstie? I'm Dave Eaton, by the way. Pleased to meet you." He said rapidly, offering a hand. His uniform, the same basic dark blue that Chip wore, seemed to be too big in some places and too small in others, giving him a rumpled look. Chip was sure that hadn't gone over well with the neat and tidy upperclassmen that he had seen. There hadn't been a hair out of place on one of them, even when they were running up and down the stairs.

"Chip Morton. Glad to meet you. I uh..I've been instructed to tell you that we'll be first on the inspection tour in about twenty minutes."

"Lovely!" Dave said with a grin. "And here I was afraid they'd save us till last just to make us wait. Better get your sea bag unpacked. You get the top bunk, and that's yours. First come first serve you know." He pointed to the desk and locker at the head of the bed, near the window. As Chip went toward the locker he looked at the last of his new roommates.

If Dave had a boyish face, then the young man that sat in the desk chair across the room had a baby face. The kid, and Morton could not help but think of him as such, since he didn't look a day over fifteen, was thin, with dark hair, an olive complexion, and unusual golden colored eyes. Those eyes seemed to study Chip warily for a moment, then turned back to the window, in what Chip could only take as dismissal. Dave, seeing the movement, jumped in.

"Our two roommates over there are men of few words, but that's okay since I have enough for all of us. The tall one folding his socks right now is Paul Oakley. He landed here in our little gulag because he dared to trip in front of the Midshipman Admiral, or whatever-"

"Brigade Commander." Oakley said without stopping what he was doing. From what Chip could see, the man's locker was perfectly organized, and didn't need any further work.

"Yeah, Brigade Commander. Anyway, he tripped and the commander practically had a meltdown right there on the quad. I thought they were going to carry you to the gate and toss you out." Dave said good-naturedly. Oakley scowled at him over his shoulder, and slid the drawer closed.

"Shouldn't you be doing something about your own stuff? You aren't any more popular than I am, and you can bet that they aren't going to cut us any slack come inspection. And you do know you aren't supposed to sit on the bunks, right?" He said, crossing his arms across his chest and frowning at the other man.

"Just because my kid sister was carrying my sea bag, they get in a snit. Jeesh, it wasn't as if I made her do it, or I could wrestle her for it. She just picked it up and wouldn't give it to me when we were coming from the car. She's a brat, why should I suffer for it? I ask you," he appealed to Chip who was quickly unpacking while he listened to the banter. "Is that fair?"

"I don't think fair is a criteria with these guys." Morton observed, standing back to get a good look at how the drawer looked, hoping it would pass the eagle eye of the inspectors. He cast a look over his shoulder at the forth man, and Dave caught the look.

"Ah, I see you have noticed our other roommate. The only one of us who is being persecuted for something he really couldn't help. May I introduce you to Midshipman Lee Crane. He isn't as young as he looks, but he ain't far off. He got an age waiver, and just barely made the cut. What is it Crane, sixteen and 1/365th?"

The golden eyes turned to him and the boy, Morton could not get past how young the kid looked, stood up. He was nearly as tall as Chip, though he was skinnier by at least 30 pounds. He straightened his shirt, and without answering Dave crossed the room to look in Chip's locker drawer. He shook his head.

"That's not going to pass. You have to have everything together and all piles must be lined up exactly and be not touching the next pile. If you don't want to have to redo it from scratch you should get it straightened out. And your sea bag has to be folded square and put at the bottom of the closet with your name showing in the center." He said. He raised his eyes to meet Chip's.

Morton, the eldest in his family, was not used to being told how to do things. He had always been the leader in almost everything he had done. Quarterback, team captain, class president, his history was not one of following but giving directions. Later he would regret the way in which he replied to what upon reflection he realized was simply a generous offer to help, not an attempt to appear superior or pushy. It was an offer in the truest nature of the service in which they were starting. Chip didn't like to think of himself as rude, but it had been a stressful day and he took it out on Crane. Years later he would realize it was one of the first lessons he had learned at the Academy. How you handled stress was important. An officer did not get stressed out and take it out on his men.

"Stow it kid. I don't need advice from someone that's just as new at this as I am. You keep to your side of the room, and I'll keep to mine, alright." He snapped, and closed the offending drawer. He rolled the sea bag neatly, and placed it in the closet section of his locker. The younger man shrugged and turned back to his side of the room. Oakley scowled at Morton who gave him a blank look. He wasn't going to be pushed by some kid, or intimidated by some string bean. Even the talkative Dave was silent after the slight confrontation, and they sat quietly as they waited for the inspection. Chip was just about ready to apologize just to make some small talk, when a loud voice echoed down the hallway.

"Inspection! All hands on deck! Attention!" Crane and Oakley were headed out the door before the voice stopped. Eaton was slightly behind them, and Morton was left to bring up the rear. They stood, as did the rest of the occupants of that floor, just outside the doorway, two to a side, their backs to the wall and at attention as a Firstie and two 2nd classmen started down the hallway. The men marched in lock step until they were before room 503. At that point the Firstie turned a jaundiced eye upon the four young men.

He seemed to find no fault with Morton, but sneered at Eaton's uniform.

"Haven't been dressing yourself long, Midshipman Cadet Eaton? What, mommy couldn't pass the physical and come along with you? We'll have to see if we can teach you how to do it right. Fifteen demerits for Midshipman Cadet Eaton." The last was addressed to one of the 2nd classmen who noted it on a sheet of paper he had on a clipboard.

He moved on to Oakley, but found no fault there. He then moved to stand in front of Crane. Morton knew enough not to break attention and look, but he watched out of the corner of his eyes as best he could. The Firstie moved up until he was standing so close that Crane's nose almost touched his chest. Crane didn't move. The Firstie looked down on the younger man and snorted. "Shouldn't you be in kindergarten Midshipman Cadet Crane? I don't recall us having a Sea Scout program here, do you Lt?" He asked the 2nd classmen at his left.

"Sir, no sir." the man snapped in reply.

"Are you a Sea Scout, Cadet Crane? What rank do you hold?" The Firstie asked.

"Sir, yes sir. I have the honor of holding Quartermaster rank, sir." Crane replied. Out of the corner of his eye Morton saw the Firstie raise an eyebrow.

"And exactly how old _are_ you Midshipman Cadet Crane? You look about 12."

"Sir, I am 16 years and one month."

"Do you know why you are addressed as Midshipman Cadet and not just Midshipman?"

"Sir, we have not yet been qualified. Until we do so we will not have the honor of be addressed as Midshipmen."

The senior classman sniffed and backed off. Morton wasn't sure if he was satisfied, or just didn't want to pursue the line of questioning, since he wasn't getting any rise out of Crane. He moved into their quarters. One of the 2nd classmen snapped at the four young men.

"Don't just stand there, fall in by your lockers." They scrambled in and came to attention beside their lockers. The Firstie started on Oakley. By the time he was finished Oakley had acquired 25 demerits and Chip could see the tall young man was having a hard time keeping from answering back when one of the upper classmen made a comment about something. The upperclassman made sure that the new midshipmen knew exactly how he wanted things done, and the 2nd classmen made sure that the order was emphasized. Crane got the same treatment, and came up with only 15 demerits, mostly for just breathing wrong as far as Morton could tell. Evidently the kid had known what he was talking about. Eaton got an additional 10 demerits for having sat on his bunk, and another 10 for not fixing it afterwards. Then the Firstie turned his attention to Morton. After looking in the drawer in his locker, the Firstie removed everything in it and dropped it on the floor. He added the rolled up sea bag, and turned to come face to face with Morton.

"Do you want to be here Midshipman Cadet Morton?"

"Sir, yes sir." he replied.

"Then why is your gear in a mess and your sea bag rolled up in the bottom of your locker? Were you planning on washing out soon, and didn't feel you needed to do it correctly?"

"Sir, no sir" He almost protested that he hadn't been instructed on the proper way to store his gear when the Firstie moved aside and he met Crane's eyes from across the room. He _had_ been instructed. He just hadn't listened because of the source, a second lesson. "No excuse, sir." he added.

"30 demerits for Cadet Morton." The Firstie said to the man with the clipboard. The senior classman moved to the door, stopping as he reached it and spinning to look at them. "Twenty demerits to each of you for not helping your roommates with the correct manner of dress, deportment, and stowage. We are a team here, if you can't work with your team members, you will not be here long. Each of you is responsible for the other. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!" all four answered. The Firstie moved on to the next room, starting the whole process again with the four midshipmen cadets that stood outside the door. Morton looked around at his roommates. Crane was already refolding the corner of the upper bunk, the one that had earned him the demerits, despite the fact that it had appeared perfect to Morton. He then went to where Oakley was struggling with the overcoat that seemed determined to live on the bottom of his locker. It seemed that Oakley had been required to purchase the coat from an outside source instead of at the quartermaster's as the rest of them would with their uniforms. He had been notified that the quartermaster was currently waiting for a new shipment of extra long coats, but had been backordered. Since all midshipmen were required to have a complete kit, Oakley had complied, and it had earned him a portion of his demerits. Crane offered his help, and between the two of them they managed to get the coat buttoned so that it stayed on the hanger. Chip looked at Eaton who had moved to stand in front of the mirror. He was shaking his head at his reflection. Chip went over and stood behind him. He put a hand on the other man's shoulder and met his eyes in the mirror.

"I think that your problem is that your torso is shorter than the shirt is cut for. You have too much shirt to tuck in correctly, and it all looks kind of baggy. And I think that your pants are a little too long in the inseam."

Eaton nodded. "Yeah. All the stuff I tried on was either too big or too small. All my measurements were halfway between one size and another. When I got this outfit the guy said I should have my stuff tailored, but my family doesn't have the money for that. Especially since I gotta do my whole kit. I gotta figure a way to make it work until Christmas, and then my mom can do it for me. She does a lot of sewing." Chip thought about the shirts and pants that made up their kits. He thought he could do it, and what's more he thought he could teach Eaton how to do it.

"What do you say that when we get our free time tonight we sit down and do a little sewing?" He offered.

"Really?" Eaton asked. "You can sew?"

"Yeah, my mom insisted that just because I was a boy that there was no reason I couldn't learn to take care of my own clothes. I can hem a pair of pants, and I think we can make a fair stab at shortening your shirts. Can't promise that they'll be great, but with luck you should pass inspection, and make it until Christmas. My mom always said I was better than my sisters, anyway." Chip found himself anxious to see if Eaton would accept his offer. He already felt bad about how he had responded to Crane earlier, and he wasn't sure if Eaton would react the same way. It turned out Chip needn't have worried. Eaton practically hugged him. Morton fended him off with a laugh and then looked at Oakley and Crane, who had been watching.

"Maybe you guys could help me figure out what to do with that mess." He said with a gesture at the pile of clothes on the floor. "I don't know about you, but I can do without any more demerits. If it keeps up at this rate we'll be walking punishment tours until we graduate." He had heard that the only way to get rid of demerits was to spend time marching in the quad. Oakley and Eaton laughed, and Crane gave a little smile. They gathered around the pile of socks, shirts, and underwear, and started folding.

Chip looked around at the three men who would be his roommates for the next year, provided they all survived the gauntlet that awaited them. He knew that he could get along with Eaton okay, and while Oakley appeared a little standoffish, Chip was confident that he could find common ground with the man. Crane he wasn't so sure about. The kid was so much younger than all of them, and to be here at this age he must be some kind of brain. But succeeding here would take more than brains. Morton really didn't see the kid making the cut, if he even made it past Hell Week.

Oh well, he had put up with his younger sisters and their boyfriends all his life, he guessed he could put up with the Eaton, Oakley and the kid for as long as it took. He was going to be a Naval Officer.

The End


End file.
